Page 88 of Unlikely Omega

Push them to go.

Or leave them.

Just the thought twists my stomach, making me feel like I’m going to throw up. It’s a different kind of pain than the ache in my core, the ache of need. This is pure misery.

The thought of not seeing them again makes me want to scream.

What if staying could work out? What if there’s hope for us? We could ride far away where nobody can find us, build a shelter. Create a family. Be together.

I sit up, trying to see Taj, needing to reassure myself that he’s still here, but I can’t see him. I can’t even see Finnen.

In sudden panic, I scramble up, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders against the chilly air, and step out from under the tree’s canopy. “Finn?” I call out. “Taj? Where are you?”

A sound from behind me has me whirling around.

I gasp.

In the gathering dusk, a humanoid form is standing. Hunched shoulders. Long, tangled hair. Furs.

A Drakoryas.

It’s not the same one from before, I think as I take a step back, then another, my heart in my throat. This one is bigger, bulkier, his eyes flat and cruel, his beard black and bushy. He opens his mouth, grinning, baring black teeth.

Oh goddess, save me. The berserker lumbers forward and this one is like an animal, alright, his nails long and sharp, black with filth and maybe blood. His gaze doesn’t linger on my face. Instead, it’s focused on my body, and I don’t know if he means to ravish me or pull me to pieces and suck the marrow from my bones.

I feel like a rabbit facing a fox or a wolf. I feel so small, so powerless I can barely move, barely breathe. I feel cold, so very cold. The blanket has fallen off my shoulders to my waist, but that’s not why. It’s as if the blood in my veins has frozen over.

The berserker keeps moving toward me, mumbling something under his breath, or maybe he’s just growling, I can’t tell. My foot catches on a root, and I stagger but manage not to fall, though my ankle flares with burning pain.

Oh please, please…

Think, Ari, think!

As he closes the distance between us, reaching for me with his clawed hands, I rip the blanket off me and throw it at him.

Then I turn to run for my life.

But as I turn, someone grabs me and hauls me away, and for a blissful moment, I think it’s Finn, or Taj.

Until the man lifts me easily and throws me over his shoulder, like a sack of onions, and starts to run under the darkening sky, and I know, I know it’s not them.

I draw a breath to scream and drown in pepper and thyme and sage, pine and resin. My body clenches with need, again and again, until I cry out with pain and arousal. Tears run down my cheeks as I helplessly bang my fists on his broad back, as I helplessly crave him.

This is the Drakoryas who came into our shelter and wounded Taj.

And now he has me.

26

FINNEN

“Have you caught anything?” Taj asks.

“I would have,” I say, “but you scare the fish away.”

Chuckling, he sits down on the pebbles by the stream. “Funny.”

“I was being serious, and that was a hint. That you should fuck off.”

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